If Tim's Truck Could Talk
by trace93
Summary: Loretta, Tim's truck, talks about life with Riggins.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: Been watching Battlestar lately - so thinking, talking toasters are on my mind… why not the Silverado? These characters are not mine._

Hey! I'm Loretta, Tim Riggins' truck. A 1987 Chevy Silverado, nothin' fancy, plain black, 135,000 miles and goin' strong. Like a rock? Hell, yeah.

I'm actually older than Tim by a few years. He named me after one of his favorite singers, Loretta Lynn. His brother Billy bought me used off Garrity Motors' lot and drove me until Tim got his license.

It was a relief when Tim started drivin' me. Billy was tough on me, especially slamming the doors. Ouch. And he ran my oil down low til I was real thirsty.

Tim takes pretty good care of me. Changes my filters regularly, my oil, even gives me an octane boost every now and then. Washes me weekly and waxes me every few weeks. It's only been a couple years now, but he's reliable.

Sure, I got cracked mirrors, dings, dents, and one of my cargo boxes needs a new hinge, but he's attached to me. He talks to me all the time like I'm his best friend. Boy's got good karma despite being a trouble magnet.

Hmm, then again, there's the bullet holes I got when he was hightailing away from some crooks… nothing terminal though. Call it character.

He'd ridden in me lots before with Billy drivin'. Mainly to school and home, practice, games, parties. Once in awhile, Billy used to take Tim rabbit hunting --Tim'd sit in the back with his rifle and take shots at anything that moved in those big fields. Bagged one, that's it.

Tim'd drive to the bluff with a bucket of golf balls and a driver and tee off again and again. Helped him to vent his anger. He's mellowed recently, gotta say.

His favorite foods, at least that he ate in my presence? Chicken fingers, burgers, fries. Chocolate shakes, and of course, beer. Amazing how well he drives loaded. Occasionally a fifth of Jack in my glove box, but mainly good old beer.

He's been stopped by cops probably five times by now, but only gotten tickets twice. Doesn't hurt that the cops like Dillon Panthers, 'specially when they win.

Music? What's my name? Right. Country mostly, plus some rock like Nickelback or AC/DC, and some crappy stuff like Gwen Stefani. Tim can't sing for beans. Kinda cute when he tries, though.

One of my cargo boxes is converted into a cooler. Plus the Playmate on wheels in my truck bed. Next to the folding lawn chairs, a chaise, and blankets. Some bungees, ropes, jumper cables. An old boom box.

I lost track of the number of girls he made out with on my bench seat. I'm just wide enough for him to lie sideways with his feet on my windowsill, which means a couple lying down can't really be seen unless you walk up to my window. He's slept in me plenty, too. On road trips, or when he's had nowhere else to go…

Back to girls. Oh, the sounds I've heard. Unearthly. And the rocking! Lordy. My shocks hurt just thinking about it.

In my glovebox? Hmm… besides the paperwork and, believe it or not, my manual, there's protection. You know, rubbers. And some handy wipes. Get resupplied pretty frequently. After he uses 'em, they go in a trash bag he keeps under the seat. He's actually pretty neat.

How many girls has he really _been _with on my watch? Maybe seven, eight. Not that many, really. And there's my truck bed… put down an old blanket, and you've got a perfect, if hard… well, bed. That's another four gals, easy. Some crossover there, of course… lost track after a few. Boy gets around.

Was I relieved when he took the Stratton sisters inside; that would not have been fun. Guess a threesome needs more space than my modest cab, thankfully. Too much for my old 8 cylinder to take, and my old chassis. Also T-M-I.

He likes variety, aside from some intensive time with Tyra (she thought it was steady, but…). Can't say I blame Timmy. His parents ditched him when he was young, and he looks for comfort with any pretty girl who's interested in him, which is… well have you looked at him? That's one thing, I never get tired of lookin' at him.

A highlight was definitely when he drove me as a float in the Panther parade. They decorated me with blue and yellow streamers and wash-off paint, and a bunch of players sat in my bed as Billy drove real slow down Main Street. Tim sat on top of my cab, legs dangling over my bed. What a day.

And it's kinda fun when Jason rides with us. His chair goes in back, and he just sits perfectly still up front. He's a sweet guy, always giving Tim good advice. That's not to say they haven't had their differences. And then the times with Lyla and Jason… the three of them have some history. Humans are so complicated.

But lately, it's just been Garrity. Lyla Lyla Lyla. He is whipped over her. I ain't never seen Timmy truly in love like this. They argue, for sure, but she sees the good side of him that not many do. But it's there. And her dad – he was my dealer!

I am nervous though – Tim's been going to the motorcycle dealership lately and looking at a bike. He's got some money now, so my days with him may be numbered. Hope not, he's been a doll. Ideal, in fact. Like a rock.


	2. Chapter 2

**Loretta's hurt!**

_Spoiler: takes place after FNL 3.8. Loretta, Tim's truck, rues Tim's absence as he goes with Jason to NYC. These characters are not mine._

Timmy went away for a few days to help Jason move to New York, and all hell broke loose. Billy was at Mindy's, they were drinkin', fought, and he drove me home crazy drunk, finally losing it at the driveway. He crashed me into the corner of the garage, covered by the hedges, hard enough to bend my hood in half. Hurt like hell. Lord, Timmy! Don't ever leave me like that again!

When Tim got out of the cab from the airport, he couldn't see my hood at first. When he did, I could practically hear his heart breakin'. He ran in the house all angry. I heard him yelling that whatever it took, Billy was gonna pay to fix me better than before. Until he realized Billy was totally wasted on the couch in his undies, a complete basket case. Mindy called off the wedding because Billy wants her to stop dancing at The Landing Strip.

Tim even used me recuperatin' as an excuse to not meet a recruiter from San Antonio. Tim told me all about it after he picked me up from the shop. That recruiter was HOT after Timmy, staying at the Marriott downtown for a few days just to have the chance to talk and to watch the Arnett Mead game (by the way, my #33 killed in that game). Said Tim was their top prospect. I nearly burst my head gasket with pride.

And me being out of service for a few days also caused girl trouble for Tim. Lyla drove him to that dinner with the recruiter. Well, started to. He said they had a big fight because he wasn't taking Lyla seriously. She kicked him out of the car in the freezin' cold and he had to hitch home. He missed the meeting which was maybe just as well; he had a buzz on from a couple sympathy shots with Billy.

Didn't matter in the end, Tim was promised a spot at San Antonio. Can you believe my Timmy's goin' to college? If I was a bettin' truck, I'd be losin' big bucks. Much as I adore that boy, nothin' up til now would lead me to believe he'd get in, much less show interest. I'll hand it to Garrity – her belief in Tim really has made a huge difference in his self-confidence.

That day he picked me up from the shop was a good one. I was healthy and had a new hood and side mirrors. Looked pretty sharp, I must say, and Tim – he was so sweet, so pleased to see me lookin' beautiful again. Gave me a sponge bath and a wax and sang me some songs, including some of my faves by Patsy Cline.(I know, I'm named after Loretta Lynn, but c'mon, Crazy? One of the greatest songs of all time.) Vacuumed me thoroughly, checked the air in my tires, bought me a new air freshener. Not sure he'd want me to say this, but... he even hugged me while he was drying me off. Lay his head down on my hood and grabbed me with his big arms. Seriously.

And of course Tim was all stoked about San Antonio. I am too, because now he'll need me to be haulin' stuff back and forth. Loser motorcycles can't do that. He drove me over to the Garrity's to tell Lyla, and even though at first she looked like hell warmed over from a massive hangover (I had to laugh), she was happy for him. Tim used every weapon in his arsenal to charm her out of her pants -- literally. Yep, they made up in a big way, out by the lake, on my bench seat. Blushin' just thinkin' about it. Well, if Tim's happy, Loretta's happy.

Also, Billy and Mindy made up. I'm happy for Billy, even though I'm sore at him about my accident. Anyhow, looks like my Riggins boys are back in lovin' arms for the time being!


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Takes place after FNL 3.12. These characters are not mine.

It's not that I don't like Billy. He just ain't as considerate as Timmy sometimes. And he don't know how to fix me.

And he gets Tim to do stuff that he wouldn't normally do. Sometimes illegal (cough, copper wire, cough), sometimes just plain old dumb. Trouble.

Like recently when they hitched me up to a trailer and took me down to the farm auction. They managed to make the winning bid on this hydraulic lift that Billy wanted for his new shop, Riggins Rigs.

Okay, so that weighs a ton by itself. Well, several hundred pounds anyway. But I can deal with that.

Then the next lot up for sale was a steer. Beautiful rack, like the one on the UT mascot, but curlier. Poor guy needed a home.

But our home? Or shop, anyway? Christ! Timmy, what were you thinkin! You weren't, I know. I saw you. Auction fever gripped you. You were all psyched you'd gotten the lift, and then you had extra money, and… crap.

A life of hauling kegs and football equipment had not prepared me for this half-ton steer.

I could barely get up some of those hills. Then my fan belt popped off and I came to a stop.

Then when Billy, the mechanic-to-be, tried to fix me, he didn't know what was up. Uh, not a good sign.

Meanwhile, Timmy's just hackin' around, already complainin' about his workload next fall at college.

Then he looks under my hood and fixes me in a jiffy.

See… the problem is, as Billy noted, how do you make a living as a mechanic if you can't even fix me? Good point.

Timmy was already in a silly mood, but when Billy popped the news about Mindy being preggers, he was so happy you'd think he was gonna have a baby himself.

I guess spendin' time with Gracie Taylor made him realize he kinda likes kids. And they sure like him.

So I hauled my ass, and that damn steer they named Otis, back to Dillon. Overheated once.

Timmy made up to me though,vacuumed me, gave me a cool bath. Rinsed all the steer outta my bed.

But I have to say, Otis is a fine lookin' beast, pretty docile. He is, after all, so Texas. Texas forever, as Timmy's always sayin'.

And I feel a little sorry for him as it's kinda hard for him to move around with that rack weighin' him down.

Guess I'll be spendin' some time near him. Especially if Timmy decides he'd rather stay in Dillon and work with Billy. (He really ain't the college type, 'tween you and me.)

Either way, I'll be with Timmy no matter what. We're a team. Sweet.


End file.
